


Confronting Two Birds

by TrainRush



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mild Gore, Nightmares, Nihilistic Conductor, Now with a second part!, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pining, Possession, Rated T for multiple references to, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, implied one-sided discotrain, leaning third person limited most of the time, mentions of vomiting, wow! a fic where snatcher’s actually an evil bitch!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrainRush/pseuds/TrainRush
Summary: Two notes.Two birds.A confrontation in the basement.—(or, alternatively, how Snatcher got the directors to work with him for the Killing Two Birds Death Wish.)
Relationships: The Conductor & DJ Grooves (A Hat in Time), The Conductor/DJ Grooves (A Hat in Time)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 139





	1. The Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> It should be noted that Snatcher is not only mean in this fic in the “I’m going to kill you if you don’t comply” way. He also makes several nasty remarks to intimidate the directors, with one in particular that may be unsuitable for readers who are sensitive to ANY of the above tags. Please read with caution.
> 
> Thank you!

Two birds with secrets to hide and a vengeful ghost arrive in a basement at midnight. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, right? Except that’s exactly what happened, and there was no humor to it.

Dead Bird Studio at night was quite the anomaly to behold. Much in contrast to the studio in the middle of a busy day, during the nightly hours, the hollow halls were silent. Undisturbed. Tranquil, almost. And always polarizing to those lucky enough to experience it. Without the endless buzz of the lights and electronics and the screams of the Conductor, one could say that Dead Bird Studio at night was a ghost town. A shell of what it was during the day.

On this particular night, a creature took up a home in this shell. The echoes of footsteps reverberated off the walls of the basement as someone made their way to the elevator. Quiet thoughts murmured in their head, whispering speculatively about the meaning of the note held tightly in their wing. Of course, they didn’t know what they were walking into, nor did they know who’d be there to greet them. That would come later.

On the other end of the studio, another bird was making a similar trip. This one was not quite as content with the paper crumpled in their fist, and they stomped the entire length of the way to the elevator. Similarly to their counterpart, this one was equally unaware of what kind of trap they were falling into, nor what kind of repressed memories such would unearth.

Now, back to the former…

—

DJ Grooves sighed in relief as he finally reached the elevator. The walk from his room to there had not been a short one, and when taking into consideration the hour of the night it was, it was easy to see how he might have been tired. Pressing the ‘down’ button, the moon penguin leaned against the wall. He reached into the inner pocket of his signature red coat and extracted a neatly folded note, opening it up and rereading it carefully.

It had been a written message from his assistant lighting director, Marianne. She had requested a meeting with him in the deepest floor of the basement at exactly midnight. Written at the bottom of the note in his friend’s familiar curly handwriting was the explanation: this meeting was something that she couldn’t risk _anyone_ finding out about. DJ Grooves folded back up the paper, stowing it away. Sure, the meeting was clearly suspicious in nature, but he’d known Marianne practically ever since DBS opened its doors. He equally well knew her handwriting. It’d be hard to sneak a forgery past him.

The elevator’s doors opened, and DJ Grooves stepped inside. Whatever this meeting was, whether it be dubiously planned or not, he was ready for it. Moving a flipper back to the inside of his coat, the penguin checked for one last thing. His switchblade. DJ Grooves always kept a switchblade on him for self-defense; it sometimes came in handy for opening boxes of props as well. He knew he’d never take it off of him, but the need to always check for it fought the unmovable object with an unstoppable force.

And it was there. DJ Grooves was sure he was ready. Positive.

The elevator doors closed.

—

The deepest room of the basement was a storage area turned party room. Complete with its own disco floor, DJ Grooves had remodeled the room to be a call-back to his club days, satisfying the wishes of the moon penguins who missed those. It wasn’t used as often as he would have liked to, but it was still a complementary addition to his side of the studio. About now, it made for quite the isolated meeting spot. Just as Marianne had described in the letter.

DJ Grooves made his way to one of the tables in the rafters. He pulled out a chair gently and sat down, looking around at the dimly lit scene before him. He huffed. His lighting director was not the kind of bird to be late or to not fulfill her promises. Yet, she was not there, and the DJ sat alone in silence. His anxious thoughts of a more dangerous visit only became louder and louder.

 _Maybe she lost her way,_ he thought. _It’s easy to get lost in the basement. Even if you’ve been practically living here for 40+ years._

He sat in silence for another few minutes until the very distant yet familiar sound of the clunking elevator disturbed his thoughts. DJ Grooves eagerly stood up. _She’s a little late, but she’s here._ He sighed in relief; the bird had just about begun to panic for his old friend. DJ Grooves made his way out of the rafters to the side of the dance floor, where he twirled his microphone in his flipper while he waited.

It took awhile for the elevator to reach the floor. When it ultimately did, however, the doors opened to reveal something — or rather, some _one_ — unexpected.

DJ Grooves’s eyes narrowed in dismay. “Conductor?!”

The Conductor’s head snapped up at the sound, and his expression immediately folded into itself in anger. “Oh, OF COURSE!” the bird hissed, his voice seething with rage.

As the Conductor stomped his way from the elevator to where DJ Grooves was standing, the latter sighed in defeat. Why did _he_ have to be there? Where was Marianne? This was supposed to be their super-secret meeting, and yet — of all birds — _the Conductor_ was somehow there.

The owl in question was in front of DJ Grooves now, stiffly pointing a feather at him accusingly. “You…!” He proceeded to fling a couple of swears at him that he had never heard before.

Slightly confused, the moon penguin dusted some lint off of his coat, not shifting his gaze from the other bird. “Yes, me.”

The Conductor sputtered. “Oh, you PECK NECK!” DJ Grooves winced a little. His rival continued. “Sending me down here on the basis of some kind of _meeting_ at an _ungodly_ hour of the night — for you, at least — and for what?! To play some kind of prank on me? To pull off a joke? Well, I’m here, so do what you will!”

“Darling, I didn’t send you down here.” DJ Grooves’s brows furrowed. This was strange. Definitely strange. “And assuming I would to play a prank on you? I’m almost appalled.”

“Appalled?! The peck are you on about?” The Conductor tapped his foot irritatedly into the ground. “We both know you sent me that _blasted letter—_ “

“Letter?” A couple of the puzzle pieces connected. “Did you get a letter?”

The Conductor reached into one pocket of his blazer and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “From one of my Express Owls, telling me to come here at midnight. Forged by you, I assume. Speaking of, you never answered my question! What do you want from me—?”

“For the last time, I didn’t send you that letter, darling.” DJ Grooves repeated, the exhaustion evident in his voice. “In fact, I received a letter, too!”

“Oh yeah? Show it to me!”

“Gladly.” The moon penguin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the neatly folded note, handing it to the Conductor and watching as he unfolded it.

The owl read over the note for a second. As DJ Grooves watched, he noticed how his counterpart’s expression softened. Where there once was a menacing scowl, there was now a confused frown. And for a moment, there was a good silence. Quite the surprising thing to come by when around the Conductor. DJ Grooves very much enjoyed moments like these, where his rival slowed down and loosened up a bit. He was so used to the constant yapping and yelling that mere silence when around the owl was a gift to behold. It was one of the few things that the moon penguin had always wanted from the other bird. ~~And maybe, if the Conductor had slowed down more often, DJ Grooves wouldn’t have had to give up his-~~

The Conductor’s puzzled frown turned into a snarl. “Oh, that dirty note-givin’ _peck neck!_ ”

 _And there it goes._ The moment of fleeting silence left as soon as it arrived.

The owl tossed both notes to the ground, looking around furiously. From seemingly nowhere, he pulled a gleaming steel knife. Similarly to DJ Grooves, the Conductor kept at least one knife on him at all times. Most often, he’d carry two: one for self-defense and the other for other purposes, like uncorking bottles and tinkering with his train’s motherboard. The one held in his talons now was the former. “Come out here and fight us yourself, you shadow-wearin’, midnight-arrivin’…” 

Distantly, DJ Grooves heard a shuffle. Though he didn’t look the part, the moon penguin had excellent hearing. Where his great hearing usually helped with sound design in his movies, it now helped in identifying the culprit behind the notes. He looked over the Conductor’s head into the shadows behind him, seeing nothing. The short yellow bird angrily rambled on, swaying his knife back and forth.

There was another shuffle. It sounded clear as glass to the DJ.

“...forgery-writing, Express-Owl-pretending…”

“Conductor.” The moon penguin spoke up above his rival’s ramblings, which only continued. He growled lowly.

Yet another shuffle resounded, this time followed by the sound of something being knocked over. _Something is definitely here._

“Conductor,” DJ Grooves hissed, “will you please _shut up_ for a second?”

The owl in question flinched at that comment, clearly offended. He whipped around to give his rival a piece of his mind when another, much more thundering crash interrupted him. The sound had come from the tall stage adjacent to them, where on a livelier night the moon penguin would have DJ’ed. Silence once again gripped the duo, but this time, it wasn’t calm. Their nervousness crackled in the air like static. The Conductor and DJ Grooves were frozen in place.

The latter snuck a glance at his counterpart, who looked nowhere near as confident or bold as he was just a moment ago. The owl warily eyed the stage, knife slightly lowered. The feathers on his neck were fluffed out in fright, and his ears were pricked straight up on alert.

Just as DJ Grooves was about to look elsewhere, something just beyond the Conductor caught his eye. Something somewhere deep in the shadows.

He made solid eye contact with a glowing pair of golden orbs.

Suddenly, a chill overtook him. Not only just him: the whole room became freezing cold in an instant. The owl clearly felt the change, too, and he glanced about confusedly. The shadows intensified, closing in on them. The air became stuffier and murkier. DJ Grooves shuddered. _What’s going on?_

From the accentuated shadows, a figure materialized. What appeared to be a long, snake-like ghost was now gazing down upon them. Their eyes and fanged smile shone, sinister and gold. They let out a mad cackle.

**” _AHAHAHAHAHAHA! FOOOOOOOLS!”_ **

The ghost clapped their hands together. Their mad grin was unrelenting.

**“You’ve done it! You’ve totally screwed yourselves! I didn’t think you two would actually be dumb enough to fall for the good ole’ letter trick, but you’re here! It’s hilarious how stupid you are!”**

“HEY! Who are you calling stupid?” the Conductor fumed, stomping one boot into the ground and pointing his knife at the specter threateningly.

They laughed once more. This time, their chuckle was more breathy than hearty. **“Oh, definitely you!”** He reached down and plucked the owl’s knife from his hand. The latter squawked in disbelief. **“Especially since you’re threatening a ghost with a mortal weapon!”** Shortly after finishing that statement, he chucked the knife back over his shoulder.

The Conductor yelped something about it having been “one of his good knives” as DJ Grooves took a definitive step forward. He had many questions on his mind, yes, but they needed to take small steps. It was clear that they wouldn’t get through to this… apparition… easily. He started off simple: “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The ghost’s amber eyes pierced into his, and the moon penguin shuddered. **“Oh, you don’t need to know that. In fact,** **_I’d_ ** **like to know more about** **_you_** **.”**

DJ Grooves frowned firmly. “No, if I recall, _you’re_ the one trespassing in _our_ studio. _You_ can go first.”

The purple spirit’s expression didn’t flinch or waver, yet its malevolent energy seemed to intensify. **“I don’t think I will.”**

They remarked it with such veracity that the moon penguin was stunned into silence for a good moment. When the stun wore off, however, DJ Grooves quickly opened his beak to give a response…

… yet no sound came out. His voice caught in his throat, and he couldn’t speak. He tried again, and again. Still, no sound came out. It was almost as though the ghost had snatched his voice. The moon penguin shot a frantic look at the ghost, whose corrupt grin was still plastered to his face.

 **“I’ll take your silence as compliance!”** they declared triumphantly. Horror seeping through his veins, DJ Grooves had an itch of fear that this confrontation was not going to end in his and the Conductor’s favor.

The latter turned to him. “Seriously? That’s pathetic — even for you, Grooves.”

He offered his rival a desperate glance, but the moon penguin’s act of helplessness was cut off by the specter speaking up again.

**“So, since that’s been decided, I think it’s time I learned about you two! Which one of you would like to go first?”**

Neither of them spoke up. It wasn’t like DJ Grooves could even speak in the first place.

 **“No one?”** The ghost glanced between the two, almost looking disappointed. They shrugged. **“Oh well! I guess that means we’re doing this the hard way!”**

The golden grin returned to the specter’s face as they scooped DJ Grooves up by the collar of his red coat. Shock and dismay pouring through him, he squirmed and kicked in protest until he tired himself.

 **“Let’s see here… oh, I should probably give you your voice back. Sorry about that.”** Nothing in his apology was genuine.

The moon penguin coughed for a moment before glaring, now eye-level, at the apparition. “Put. Me. Down.”

 **“Nope! We’re doing this the hard way, remember? Besides, this way, I can look into your soul! You don’t get to keep any secrets!”** Their echoing voice contained a pure, sweet excitement that made DJ Grooves’s stomach plummet.

 **“Hm…”** They glanced up and down him for several moments. **“You know, a person’s shadow can tell you a lot about them!”** His signature grin remained stitched on his face. **“Let’s see… you and your friend down there have been competing for… wow. 42 years? And during that time, he forced a kind of rivalry between you two… ah. But you don’t like it, do you? You want to return to when you two were friendlier.”**

The ghost resumed his examination in silence for the next few moments. DJ Grooves was glad that the Conductor didn’t make any snarky comments, especially since the spirit was definitely speaking loud enough for the owl to hear.

And then the specter froze. **“Oh. Ah… that’s interesting. Very interesting.”** His “very” was drawn out, slowly and meticulously pronouncing each sound and syllable. Their eyes met DJ Grooves’s own again, and the same shiver was produced. His voice lowered to just above a whisper. **“But I’m sure you wouldn’t want me saying** **_that one_ ** **in front of your** **_dearest_ ** **Conductor, would you?”**

DJ Grooves felt time stop. His heart was beating out of his chest, yet it nearly stopped pounding in that moment. He opened his mouth and spoke, his voice barely even a whisper. “You wouldn’t _dare._ ”

**“Oh, but I would! And I will. If you step over the line again, that is.”**

With that, the ghost lowered DJ Grooves only slightly before dropping him to the ground. He hit the floor with a _thud_ , landing on his side and almost definitely breaking _something._ The moon penguin looked up, wincing, to see the Conductor standing over him. Much to his surprise, his rival did not look angry or critical. Instead, his face was plagued with an oddly confused and conflicted look. Which, to an extent, was even worse.

Before the Conductor or DJ Grooves could say anything to one another, the spirit scooped up the former by his collar, similarly as he had done to the other. Astonishingly, the owl did not protest or squawk; he simply hung there and stared the ghost directly in the eye. He wasn’t afraid of any ghost! Surely, he’d be fine. That terrified look on Grooves’s face had to have just been from the fall. Besides, what did someone like his rival, who was _so gaudy_ and _excessive_ all the time, have to hide?

 **“Alright then! Let’s… see… huh. This one’s a** **_mess_** **. Your wife divorced you around your twenty-second year into this, which exemplified your growing alcohol problem… and not to mention your nihilism!”** The ghost laughed, lifting a claw to his fanged smile to stifle it. The Conductor felt a nauseating bile rise in his throat. _That wasn’t funny._

 **“Oh, but** **_it’s all okay,_ ** **right? No, of course! And you most definitely** **_didn’t_ ** **have a relapse of those depressing thoughts just six months ago, right?”**

The owl felt sick. He felt _so_ sick. He didn’t _want_ to be reminded of that. He didn’t _need_ to be reminded of that. He didn’t—

The ghost grinned, now, so brightly that they could have blinded the sun. He brought the bird in his claws dangerously close to his face, tightening his grip and digging into the Conductor’s flesh with his talons. When they spoke, their voice was soft yet venomous.

**“And… just six months ago… you considered joining the ranks of Subcon.”**

The Conductor paled. Every bit of his body went numb. His sickness before was nothing compared to what he felt now. He wanted badly to disappear. To no longer be reminded. He had been doing fine recovering; why did those memories need to be brought back now?

But the ghost did not sympathize with the Conductor. Instead, his grin remained there. Taunting him. Tormenting him. **“Hey, buddy…**

_**“...if you ever reconsider, we’d be glad to accept you.”** _

As soon as the Conductor processed the scathing words that were just spoken to him, he was lowered and dropped to the ground just as Grooves had been. And on the ground he remained for a solid few seconds, until the petrified moon penguin, who had been watching the scene from afar, rushed over to help him.

DJ Grooves didn’t know what exchange had just happened between his counterpart and the spirit, but he had never seen the Conductor so pale in his entire life. He looked pale and incredibly nauseated. The moon penguin had just helped his rival into a sitting position when the shadow spoke again.

**“Now that you two effectively know who’s in charge here, let’s make a deal!”**

“A deal?” DJ Grooves warily echoed.

 **“Yes, a deal!”** The overly-enthusiastic shadow clasped his hands together. **“You see, I have this rather…** **_unruly_ ** **contractor that needs disposing of, and I figured that you two could help me out!”**

“But… why us?”

The ghostly figure stroked his chin in fake thought. **“I heard that she was a friend of yours…** **_both_ ** **of yours, in fact! And also that you,”** they pointed at the moon penguin, **“have already tried pulling off this stunt before!”**

His eyes widened in terror. Even the Conductor, who had been staring into nothingness for the past moments, snapped his head up immediately.

“Th-the hatted darling?”

 **“Yes,”** the darker shadow brooded, smiling sinisterly, **“** ** _the hatted child._** **”**

Now DJ Grooves emphasized with the Conductor’s nausea. The owl in question had looked away once more, swaying his head back and forth in disbelief. The spirit had set up this whole meeting to arrange for them to _murder Hat Kid?_

 **“Well?”** the ghost prompted, looking rather impatient. **“What’s it gonna be? Your secrets and your lives… or her life?”**

In front of the duo appeared two yellowed paper contracts. Written in perfectly printed purple ink, it outlined exactly what was to happen to them: they would forfeit their souls to “Snatcher” (presumably the name of the ghost) who would possess their bodies to kill Hat Kid. They would maintain partial consciousness in this state, and they were liable to any injuries sustained when the child inevitably fought back. There was no protocol outlining what would happen if _she won,_ though, and DJ Grooves pondered what would become of them then.

The moon penguin hadn’t noticed until the next moment, but the Conductor already held the quill in his hand and was looking to him with uncertainty. DJ Grooves had never seen his rival in such a vulnerable state before in his entire life. He had no clue what this “Snatcher” told him to bring him to this, but whatever it was, the moon penguin quite frankly didn’t want to know. Taking into consideration everything that had happened thus far, it didn’t surprise DJ Grooves too much that the Conductor was more than ready to sign the contract.

Slowly, and with much shared uncertainty, he nodded to his counterpart. This was the only way, wasn’t it? And besides, he had faith in the little diva. If she had beat him so badly last time — and trust him, she _had_ — then she should be able to beat them this time. Even if they were possessed by some eldritch monstrosity who liked to play God.

DJ Grooves picked up the quill in his flipper and carefully signed his name on the line at the bottom of the page. Next to him, the Conductor did the same, with slightly more haste in his scratchy handwriting. As they finished, their contracts disappeared into clouds of purple smoke.

The spirit looked pleased. **“That seals the deal! Let me take these off your hands…”**

The moon penguin wondered for a moment what the shadow meant when a bolt of purple lightning struck his chest. He stumbled back, dazed, and feeling a whole lot emptier. Meanwhile, the Conductor looked like he was on the verge of collapsing on the spot.

 **“Now, let’s see…”** the snake-like shadow began, eyeing the duo before them up and down. **“What would be the best way to control you two?”** He paused, narrowing his golden eyes in thought. **“My last contractor that I had attempt to kill that kid had his puppet strings around his wrists, and that worked out pretty well. I think I’ll do the same for you two!”**

The ghost snapped their fingers, and long blue strings of the most vibrant hue wrapped themselves around DJ Grooves’s wrists. He felt his body go numb, and he collapsed to his knees before the shadow. The only thing he could control was his head, and even that felt constrained.

For a moment, there was silence. The purple spirit eyed the duo, his gaze dull and blank, as he was deep in thought. The silence lasted for too long, filling the moon penguin with the dread of anticipation. And then, abruptly, they burst out in a fit of booming laughter. Eventually, it fizzled into a quiet, almost childish giggle as they snapped their fingers again.

At first, DJ Grooves noticed no change. But not much later, a quiet, choked sound alerted the bird that the change had not happened to him, but rather his counterpart. He glanced over and his eyes widened. The strings had been released from the Conductor’s wrists, but they were now secured tightly around his neck. The expression on the owl’s face was one of pure, unfiltered horror.

The ghost’s giggles picked up again, and it took him a while to calm down.

 **“I’m going to leave now, but don’t get too cozy! That brat shouldn’t take long; she likes to do the contracts as soon as I give them to her. I’ll black you guys out when she’s ready!”** They gave the duo a forced wave of the hand. **“Later!”**

With that, the darker shadow disappeared away into the ground. The dim overhead lights clicked back on, and most of the other, formless shadows skunked away into the corners. For a moment, neither director knew what to do. The glowing blue puppet strings still remained attached to them, but they could move freely now.

DJ Grooves was the first to move. He walked over to the stage at the end of the room and climbed up onto it, sitting on the edge. He feigned interest in the blue strings that were etched into his wrists — in reality, he couldn’t focus at all. There was so much that had just happened in such a small window of time… so much to think about… so much to _worry_ about…

Not long after, the Conductor followed the moon penguin, climbing up onto the stage and sitting at the other end. For a long moment, no words were spoken between the two. DJ Grooves wasn’t sure if he preferred it to be this way or not until the other bird spoke up.

“What do _you_ have to hide?”

His voice was low and scratchy, yet smooth, like sand. And there was no hostility to be found in his words, which was especially unusual. The owl instead sounded… tired. Deeply conflicted. Somewhere in between the state of being dead and being alive.

DJ Grooves looked up and over at his long-time rival, who in return only barely met his gaze. “A lot more than you might think, darling.”

The moon penguin knew that he couldn’t ask any questions back for now. The Conductor appeared to be far too nauseated — far too traumatized — for him to try and pry into what had just happened.

 _“What do_ you _have to hide?”_

If only he could ask the same question.

In that moment, the strings around the birds’ wrists suddenly tightened, and everything became black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vents onto the conductor* *vents onto the conductor* *vents onto the conductor* *vents onto the conductor* *vents onto the conduc
> 
> _sorry for pushing off ch5 of TEoLaT like this, but it’s taking a lot longer than I originally expected. the chapter is at 3.7k words already and I’m only on the 3rd phase (there’s 5). I’m also not too happy with how it’s been turning out so far, and I’d like to try and rewrite a lot of it. I hope you can understand._
> 
> aaanyways, for people who don’t care about my other fic, this one may or may not get another part..! may or may not. depends if my motivation wants to work with me lol. but I do have an idea. so!
> 
> *dies*


	2. When I Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _you showed me videos recorded twenty-five years ago_   
>  _please don't ever leave me alone_

It was a beautiful day.

With the sun shining brightly and a cool breeze blowing to balance out the heat, every owl and moon penguin in Dead Bird Studio was, more or less, in a good mood. Even the occasional short temper of the Conductor was quieted to a low hum, and the owl director appeared to be quite contented. He walked to and from his sets with a bounce in his step, stopping a few times to make small talk with his actors. It was around 4:00 when he settled down in his office to begin working on the script for his next movie.

DJ Grooves, too, was in a good mood that day. Of course, he typically was, but this day was different. His cheerfulness was _exemplified_. The Conductor wasn’t criticizing his actors, the weather was gorgeous, and everything was going swimmingly in the production of his next movie. It almost seemed _too_ perfect — though he didn’t acknowledge that. What mattered was that the day had given the moon penguin a sense of confidence: confidence to face and catch up with the Conductor. For the past week, they’d been working separately, and DJ Grooves figured now was a good time as ever to chat again. It was around 4:30 when he made his way down the halls of the basement to his counterpart’s office to check in on him.

The basement had recently been tidied by their staff, and it looked as polished as ever. Many cluttering boxes were moved to the lower levels, the floors were swept, and even a few halls were given a fresh coat of paint. Each minor element gave the basement levels an even greater sense of professionalism, every bit of which DJ Grooves admired.

After a minute of walking down the freshly cleaned corridors, the moon penguin reached the door. He took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he relaxed and smiled before knocking on the metal door.

A response came almost immediately. “Come in!”

When DJ Grooves turned the doorknob, opened the door and stepped inside, an unexpected sight befell him. The Conductor was excitedly flipping through the pages of a notebook on his desk, occasionally stopping and scribbling something down. His beak was curved up into a smile. When he looked up to his visitor, his smile only grew.

“Grooves! What brings you down here?” the owl asked before quickly returning back to his work.

“Oh, I just wanted to see how you were doing, darling! How’s your brainstorming coming along?”

The seventeenth Annual Bird Movie Awards were approaching by the minute, and both directors were still in the planning stages of their movies.

“Spectacularly!” The Conductor grinned, looking up at the moon penguin before him. “I’ve already come up with a title!”

“Have you?” DJ Grooves smiled, leaning against the desk. “Let’s hear it, then!”

“‘The Ultimate Confrontation!’ I still need to sort out most of the details, the casting, and not to mention what kinds of props will be needed…” He shuffled through several pages, searching for something.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, darling. You’re an amazing director!” The moon penguin’s eyes twinkled at the Conductor from behind his star-shaped shades, and the latter smiled with flustered sincerity.

“Well… uh… thank you!” The Conductor rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re not a bad director yourself, lad.”

DJ Grooves’s smile remained painted to his beak, and he hummed in short reply. Picking himself up from his leaning position, the moon penguin walked around the desk and behind the Conductor’s chair, placing both flippers on the top of the back of the chair. As he watched over the owl’s shoulder, the latter chuckled.

A good moment of tender silence settled in the air as DJ Grooves watched his counterpart work. The way his pen moved across the paper was almost rhythmic in nature, gliding as though dancing to a muted song. He became completely engrossed in the silent music, zoning out for many minutes. And then he noticed the Conductor’s expression. The owl was so calm and focused with his work, making every stroke with an odd exactitude that spoke a single message loud and clear: this was where he was supposed to be. The feathers that rested against his face were smooth yet fluffy, and his pin-pricked ears sat delicately on his head. DJ Grooves almost wanted to reach out and pet them. Almost. He knew better, of course, but those feathers looked so soft…

He froze.

For a moment, his mind became disoriented and his thoughts became fuzzy. And then his entire body went numb.

In a single moment of horror-struck realization, DJ Grooves looked down at his wrists.

The blue strings had returned.

Once the single moment had passed, the moon penguin found that he could no longer move any part of his body. Not his eyes, not his head; he couldn’t even control his _breathing_ anymore. He was a one-man audience to his own actions, and the theater doors locked him in.

DJ Grooves (or, rather, the strings) retracted his wings from the back of the chair, leaving them tingling in an odd way. He stared at the Conductor for a few moments, as though pondering what to do, until a grin struck his face. The grin was not sincere, nor was it kind in any regard. It felt sick. DJ Grooves — better yet, the audience — felt a little sick too.

It was then that the strings’ intent became clear. They brought his flipper up, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small switchblade. _His_ switchblade. The knife that he’d always carried on him for self-defense, he realized, would soon find a use far outside of its intended purpose.

The rhythmic tap and scratch of the Conductor’s pen matched the thump of DJ Grooves’s heart.

_No._

_No, no no._

_Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this._

The blue threads opened the switchblade, examining the knife. It gleamed in the bright white overhead lights.

_Don’t hurt him. Please…_

His thoughts and attempts at reasoning with the strings were futile. The strings lowered his flippers back to their spot on the chair, and the blade scraped against the wood on the back of the seat.

The Conductor paused, alerted to the noise. “Grooves?”

He was too late.

The puppet strings acted quickly; quicker than DJ Grooves could have possibly anticipated. In a single beat, the switchblade was lifted up and sunken into the Conductor’s throat. The owl dropped his pen immediately, his hands curling in pain. He made an odd, choked noise almost reminiscent of a high-pitched whimper. The strings finished the job, slashing the blade the rest of the way across his skin and extracting the weapon from his now blood-soaked throat.

In a vain attempt to turn around and confront DJ Grooves, the bloodied Conductor stumbled up and out of his chair, falling to the ground. Then was when he started choking. The blood made its way into his lungs, filling them and causing the owl to let out a wretched, gurgling, pained cry. He barely propped himself up to his knees. Purple blood pooled on the ground.

And there the moon penguin was, standing over him. The audience screamed at such a horrendous sight. The audience cried, struggling (and failing) to take back over his body in the hopes that the Conductor could be saved. The audience wanted to vomit, because despite his severe emetophobia, the piercing metallic stench of blood was far too powerful.

DJ Grooves, puppeteered by an unseen force, kneeled down to face the Conductor. He stared him directly in the eyes (covered by layers of feathers), from which tears of shock and pain fell. The owl’s strength quickly ran dry and he crumpled, falling over from his knees to the cold, hard floor. The choking resumed.

He eventually ran out of strength to move, to cough, and eventually, to breathe. The metallic smell of blood completely blanketed the office, which fell deathly silent. The Conductor became completely still.

The strings were released. There was barely a single buffering moment—

Horrified, DJ Grooves stumbled back. His wing flew up to clasp his beak, but he quickly retracted it back as he realized it was covered in blood. _The Conductor’s_ blood. As the moon penguin gazed down at the sight before him, an overwhelming sickness overtook his heart. He’d _murdered_ the Conductor. And there he was, laying there, _dead_. And by _his_ hand. 

He attempted to look away, but he couldn’t — no matter where he looked, there was blood splattered. DJ Grooves felt burning hot tears roll down his face. Dizzy with shock, he took a couple more steps back. He lurched, the violent urge to throw up overpowering him once again. He clutched his mouth with his non-bloodied wing, squeezing his eyes shut—

He woke up.

* * *

DJ Grooves sat upright in his bed, panting and holding his chest. Frantically, he looked around, only to quickly realize that he was back in the safety of his room, in his bed. Tears streamed from his eyes, his heart pounded like a drum, and he was shaking terribly. He tried calming himself down and steadying his breaths as he recounted what had just happened.

None of it was real. It was only a nightmare.

Only a nightmare, sure, but a very lucid one at that. In fact, he was certain it was all real until the puppet strings returned, but by then it was too late. He shuddered. The sickly smell of blood still cling to his memory, and he could still hear the Conductor’s pained, suffocated cries.

DJ Grooves let out a slow, shaky sigh, and he hugged his pillow.

The effects of that contract that he and his rival signed were showing up in more ways than one, it turned out that selling your soul really _did_ have strong repercussions. The first noticeable effect was sleeping for over half a day after Hat Kid beat them in battle (which, yes, she did beat them). While they were both out cold after their fight, the alien child healed them of their injuries. Then, when they both awoke, she apologized endlessly for hurting them. Of course, DJ Grooves was just glad to see her okay, which she assured them she was. After her visit was finished, she sent them away to rest, which was when the half-day clock began.

The second effect was the expected hollow feeling, which hurt DJ Grooves much more that he had anticipated. He’d severely underestimated just how much he needed his soul, and now his lively spirit had completely fallen. He felt so _tired,_ even though he’d gotten more than enough sleep. He felt so _ill,_ even though he was of perfect health. It just _hurt,_ and DJ Grooves _hated_ it.

The third effect, which had only surfaced about a minute ago, was lucid nightmares. The moon penguin had sworn that he never wanted to see those damned strings again after Hat Kid bested them. Yet his needs could never outweigh reality, and the strings reminded him of such in the worst possible way. He took a deep breath and sighed, looking at his wrists. At least they were gone now. But the sickness wouldn’t leave.

DJ Grooves lifted himself out of his bed, setting foot on the freezing floor of the basement. He needed to clear his mind a bit, and a walk sounded like the perfect idea. A nice way to ground himself back in reality, and maybe to shake the memory of that nightmare off his shoulders. Yeah. That sounded idyllic.

Gradually, he made his way from his room into the corridors of the basement, which were no longer as neat and polished as they were in his nightmare 25 years ago. Boxes and cameras laid about with no real purpose, disused, forgotten. The paint on the walls was chipping, and the floors were coated in dust and dirt. Only a single dim, flickering overhead light lit the way as DJ Grooves wandered aimlessly.

The moon penguin opened a door and entered a new hallway. The entire basement was freezing cold, and he wondered whether the particles he was seeing in the air were his breath or upturned dust. This hallway was broader, and boxes crowded on either side of him. In the dark, DJ Grooves could only barely place where he was: somewhere nearby the private screening room. It didn’t matter at the moment, as he always found his way back somehow, but it was always good to have a vague idea of where he came from—

As he approached his dressing room, a low, extremely faint sound came to his ears. The moon penguin stopped in his tracks. The echo was hardly a whisper on the cool air, yet it sounded as clear as daylight to DJ Grooves. Slowly, he turned the corner, walking into the room. Sure enough, the noise became louder and clearer. It was familiar in the worst possible way; he was certain he’d heard it in his nightmare.

It was the sound of crying.

His eyes now widening in shocked realization, DJ Grooves looked up. There, just beyond a small set of stairs, was the door to his rival’s bedroom. 

He was crying. _The Conductor was crying._

“Oh… no…” he breathed, feeling his heart drop. The moon penguin had not confronted the other since the incident with the ‘Snatcher,’ and he especially did not think that now was a good time. But if the Conductor was _crying?_ No, not crying, it would be too faint — _sobbing?_

DJ Grooves gathered a deep breath and slowly ascended the stairs. 

For a moment, he hesitated at the door handle. He could hear the muffled sobs from the other side of the wall, which he pressed himself against so he couldn’t be seen through the door’s window, and he felt a distressing sadness grip his heart. DJ Grooves had never heard — much less _seen_ — the Conductor in a state like this. Not in the entire 42 years that they had shared together. 

Slowly and hesitantly, he reached out and opened the door.

At first, the Conductor didn’t notice him. He was sitting up in his bed, hunched over his knees which he’d pulled up to his chest. One arm rested over them, in which his head was buried, and the other curled around his legs, hugging them tightly. His sobs were muffled, yet loud enough to be clearly heard.

As gently as he could, DJ Grooves shut the door behind him. He paused. How on earth would he approach his rival like this?

Slowly, he took a few steps forward—

The owl flinched, looking up and meeting his visitor’s gaze. For a moment, he stared at him in petrified shock. Tears were still falling down his feathered face. Then his expression became unreadable, and he burrowed his head back in his knees.

DJ Grooves walked the full length of the way to the bed, now, sitting on the side. The Conductor’s sobs had subsided, if only stifled, by embarrassment. They were replaced by soft tears.

The moon penguin turned himself around, bringing his legs up and over, so that he sat cross-legged on the bed right beside the distraught Conductor, who still cried into his tear-soaked pajama pants. He didn’t know what to do. How would he console him? What happened? Was he okay with his presence? Should he have never shown up? His thoughts raced a mile a minute. And yet, it was a single, softer idea which surfaced its way to the top. He hesitated for a long moment before acting upon it.

...

There was an unspoken question that came with DJ Grooves gently wrapping his arm around the owl’s shoulders.

_“Would you like a hug?”_

As stated, it was never spoken, yet it hovered there delicately between them. The air around it was soft, and yet it was saturated with a gingerly tension just waiting to be broken. Waiting for a response. The Conductor lifted his head up, if barely, and gazed up at his rival. The one who he “hated” so much was now offering him the gentlest form of consolation. A hug. It was the last thing he’d expected, but...

The response came in the form of the Conductor leaning into DJ Grooves’s comforting hold.

_“Yes. Very much so.”_

In a single moment, the quiet visitor wrapped both of his wings around his rival, who climbed into his grip and rested there. The owl wrapped his arms around his visitor’s neck and rested his head against his shoulder, and the visitor hugged him closer. Silence nestled itself in the air for a minute or so. It was broken when the Conductor burst into tears.

DJ Grooves sucked in a breath, sensing a low, melancholic feeling swell inside of him. He brought the owl closer, closing his eyes and gently sighing. Soothing words of reassurance flowed from his beak and surrounded them, soaking into their feathers as tears soaked into DJ Grooves’s shoulder. _“It’s okay…” “I’m here…” “Everything’s going to be okay…”_

As the minutes ticked on, the moon penguin made a few realizations, the most major of which was the simplest conclusion: on that night they met Snatcher, the ghost said something that caused a part of the Conductor to crack. This piece of glass — this part of him — concealed something he’d hidden away for a very long time. And it was now leaking. Pouring. Flooding. And he couldn’t stop it.

Another realization was that, albeit slowly, the Conductor was calming down. The warm embrace and those calming words had helped. His sobs became quieter. He stopped clinging onto DJ Grooves for dear life, and now his arms only limply returned the hug. Everything seemed to become calmer as the owl slowly recovered from his breakdown. Eventually, he stopped crying completely with a shaky sigh, and the room became still.

There was another long moment of silence. Perhaps it was in that moment that the weight of what had just happened dawned upon the Conductor. The fact that DJ Grooves, who he had treated _so harshly_ for all those years, walked in on him crying, and his first instinct was to comfort him. The fact that not only did DJ Grooves comfort him, but he comforted him with _warmth_ and _reassurance._ The fact that he was still doing so, even now, after the sobbing was over.

Slowly, the Conductor turned. He repositioned himself, sitting on one of the moon penguin’s legs and draping his legs over the other. He dried what remained of his tears and leaned against DJ Grooves’s chest. And DJ Grooves still hugged him.

There was yet another prolonged moment in which they stayed that way. Although no one spoke, a deep, understanding language was spoken through their steady breathing and the thump of their heartbeats, which the Conductor nearly fell asleep to as he rested against the silent moon penguin’s chest. Sometime during the moment of silence, the owl reached up with one hand and felt the feathers around his throat. It may have been a very oddly specific action, yet it communicated a vast amount of feelings. As DJ Grooves quietly observed, his beating heart plummeted. Was the Conductor having a nightmare on the other end of his? Was that why he was awake?

**⁂ A Small Note from Your Narrator (Part One of Two) ⁂**

**DJ Grooves was wrong. Partly.**

**Yes, the Conductor had a nightmare, and yes, his throat was slashed in said nightmare, but not by him.**

**Rather, it was slashed by someone who knew the owl a lot more personally.**

**There was only one other person who knew him better.**

He hoped not.

As the moment of silence came to a close, the Conductor lowered his hand from his neck. He gulped down his fears and hoarsely asked a single question.

“Why are you awake?”

DJ Grooves was jolted back to reality from his sleepy state, blinking a few times to wake himself up before answering the question. “Nightmare,” he murmured.

The owl nodded sympathetically.

Another long moment of silence stretched between previous response and the next question. It was not out of sleepiness, nor out of fear of breaking the tense silence, nor even out of fear of bursting into tears again (which had been quite embarrassing albeit justified). He was instead thinking long and hard on his next question, and when his voice formed it, it was very delicately given to the air.

“What did you…” he trailed off for a moment. “What did you hear?”

DJ Grooves tilted his head slightly, mutely asking for clarification.

“You know… that night…”

As he understood, the moon penguin nodded. “I didn’t hear much, to be honest.” The Conductor previously hadn’t thought it possible for his rival to be able to speak quite as quietly and softly as he did on this night. “I suppose you heard everything he said to me, except the whispers, of course. He was very... vocal… on mine…” He trailed off for a moment. “But yours? Apart from the first bit about… _year twenty-two…_ all I heard was something about a relapse of some sort six months ago.”

The Conductor took a deep breath, his sigh just barely trembling. He nodded. The less DJ Grooves knew, the better.

Meanwhile, DJ Grooves weighed the owl’s reaction. Yes; there was definitely something in what Snatcher said that caused him to become so despondent. But what was it? What could it have possibly been? The Conductor was so brash, rude-mouthed and loud. He acted as though he had absolutely nothing to hide in the daylight. Though…

He looked down at the broken owl in his arms.

It wasn’t quite hard to believe now. In the 42 years that the two birds had spent with one another, they had grown to understand and know each other very well. But in the end, there was no one who knew the Conductor better than he knew himself.

** ⁂ A Small Note from Your Narrator (Part Two of Two) ⁂ **

**There they are.**

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” DJ Grooves spoke up. “Not tonight, in your nightmare… or that night.”

The Conductor couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I just…” he trailed off for a second, “want you to know that I’m here for you. Always.”

And then flooded the guilt in the owl’s heart. It nearly drowned him. There were a few seconds of silence before he couldn’t take it.

“I’m so sorry,” the Conductor blurted, putting his head in his hands. “I’m so, so sorry…” His voice cracked, and he began to tremble again. A rogue tear slipped down his face. “I’ve… I’ve treated you like absolute—“

He was interrupted by DJ Grooves only pulling him closer. His voice caught in his throat, and he found he could not speak. A few beats of silence.

“Apologize later, okay?” the moon penguin whispered gently. “Now is not the time.”

The silence continued to stretch. Both birds sat there, on the bed, snuggled in each other’s grip. Neither wanted to let go. Perhaps the Conductor still had not fully recovered from his nightmare. Perhaps DJ Grooves was still deeply troubled from his own. In this moment, all that mattered was that they had each other. That was all.

“...Grooves?”

He looked down. “Hm?”

The owl nearly choked on his own words. “Are… are we going to be okay?”

In honesty, he’d wanted to ask the same question. He was fairly certain he’d okay; he’d dealt with the threat that Snatcher had provided to him for years. But it deeply troubled him, seeing the Conductor like this. With what he was fairly certain was resurfaced trauma, the lack of their souls, and now the lucid nightmares...

“Hopefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i tried to hold it in  
>  you knew the pain i felt **when i fell**  
>  and i still remember  
> your heartbeat..._


End file.
